Kit was right next to him, leaning casually against the wall but looking ready to put someone through it if they took a step closer. He glanced back at me, saw me slumped on the floor, saw I hadn't entered, and gave me a sharp, grim nod.
And from around the corner, I heard Cal's mild, pleasant voice.
"Nah mate, you can't go down there."
"I just need to get my guitar case from the back—" A roadie's voice. Confused.
"Green room's shut," Cal interrupted, sounding apologetic and completely immovable. "Health and safety. Bit of a gas leak. Very dangerous. Best clear off to the bus, yeah?"
"Gas leak?"
"Massive one," Cal confirmed. "Smells like citrus and ozone. Lethal. Go on then."
I let my head thump back against the wall.
"Gas leak," I breathed, a laugh shaking my ribs.
From inside the room, silence had fallen. Then, a soft shuffle of movement near the door.
"Alfie?" Her voice was thin, spent.
"Still here."
"Did you..." She hesitated. "Are you okay?"
I looked down at my lap. "I'll survive, love. Cold shower and a bit of a lie down. Don't worry about me."
"You stayed."
"Told you. Copy your 'no' like gospel."
A pause. Then, softer than anything I'd ever heard from her: "Thank you."
"Anytime, fox. Literally. Anytime."
I stayed there until I heard her breathing even out into sleep. Only then did I push myself up, legs shaking, and walk toward the boys, feeling like I was ten feet tall and burning alive.
Walking back down that corridor felt like re-entering atmosphere without a heat shield. My skin was too tight, my blood too hot, and every nerve ending was firing signals that had nowhere to go. The scent of burnt sugar, my own distress and desire flaring up like a lit match, clung to the faux fur of my coat.
I reached the T-junction where the boys were holding the line.
Kit pushed off the wall the second he saw me. He didn't say a word, just scanned me from boots to chipped manicure, looking for damage or guilt. He’s got this way of looking at you, Kit does, like he’s counting your bones to make sure none of them are out of place.
"Door stayed shut," I said, my voice sounding like gravel in a blender.
"I know." Kit’s shoulders dropped an inch. "We heard the lock. Never turned."
Euan uncrossed his arms. He looked clinically bored, but I saw the way his nostrils flared, testing the air mix. "Pheromone saturation in the hallway is critical," he noted, tapping something on his phone. Probably adjusting the bus HVAC remotely to prepare for decontamination. "Yours is worse than hers right now."
"Cheers, Euan. Always hold a mirror up to a man in crisis, yeah?" I tried to grin, but my face felt stiff.
"Just data," he said, though he stepped closer, effectively blocking the view of the corridor from anyone who might wander past. "She’s stable?"
"Asleep. Crashed hard." I leaned against the cool cinderblock, sliding down until I was crouching. My legs were jelly. "It worked. The protocol... it actually worked."
Cal wandered back from dispatching the confused roadie, dusting his hands on his trousers like he’d just finished gardening. "Gas leak story is holding," he said, deadpan. "Toldthe venue manager we might need hazardous waste removal if anyone goes near that door before morning. He looked terrified."
"You're a menace, Cal," I wheezed.
